Author：China culture | 2022-11-23 | Views：294
Author: Liu Yong (987—1053)
A cicada whines in the chilly air.
Evening falls on the long pavilion out there.
A sudden rain shower just ceased.
Not in the mood to drink in the tent outside the city
Where I feel attached, While my staff hurries to get the ornate boat started. I
hold my beloved lady’s hand and watch her tearful eyes,
Speechless, with words stuck in my throat becoming sighs.
We are thinking thousands and thousands of miles on the misty river,
Along the vast sky where dusk clouds will lower.
Departure has always saddened the sentimental,
Not to mention Departing in the desolate season of fall.
Where will I wake up after drinking tonight?
Perhaps there will be a willow-tree-lined shore in my sight
With dawn winds blowing and the waning moon setting on the side.
This journey will take years.
Delightful days and splendid scenery will look like nothing.
Even given thousands of new excitements ahead,
With whom can I share everything?
Copyright: A POETIC PORTAL TO CHINESE CULTURE, China Pictorial Press
